You Suck And I Hate You

Oh, the wittiness of drunk Amy. I sure know how to use my words. In fact, I think that no matter my state of intoxication, I remain both dignified and articulate. And if I occasionally wake up, check the sent items box of my phone and feel a twinge of regret, that's okay. It's expected. But most importantly, it's still dignified and articulate.

Let me take this from the start... Recently, my brother of roughly 28 years of age (could be 27) moved in with my papa bear, my step-mama bear and little old me bear. He may very well be the single worst person to live with. Ever. (Bold font and a grammatically incorrect sentence just so you know I'm not messing around. Nuh uh. Not this time). I would rather live with a mouse, a giraffe, two triceratops, every member of The Wiggles and Batman. (Batman, I've heard, is a highly untidy roommate). How do I get the gravity of exactly how awful he is across? He wakes me up at 5am. Constantly. He slams doors, breaks showers, steals food/clothes/bed sheets/spare change. He moves the toilet paper away from the toilet paper holder as if it's suddenly a fun game for no one but him to avail of the benefits of double pleated sheets of loo roll. He leaves a trail of filth everywhere he goes. Picture a snail with spiky hair. That's my brother.

By far, his worst crime to date has been putting used cotton buds (which he uses to clean his ears, by the way) on my piano. You read that correctly. Go back, read over it again. See? You did read it correctly - told you so. For someone easily freaked out by germs and general ickiness (aka, me) these kinds of stunts are just acts of pure cruelty. The list does go on. His latest misdemeanor, however, set me into a rage I did not think I had in me. I staggered out of a taxi at roughly 3 am. Once I had managed to separate my house keys from the ball of wool that had somehow ended up in my bag (I have absolutely no recollection of where this wool comes from, nor do I have any idea where the box of staples or the single furry slipper came from either) and let myself into the house, I decided that a snack would be just the ticket. And that's when I realised it. That I was sharing my house with a monster. I walked (read: stumbled) into the kitchen only to find that I had no Kellog's Crunchy Nut left.

That's when the fury hit. I decided to teach my good for nothing, food stealing, heart breaking, pain in the ass brother a lesson. So I set myself up to send him a text message. The angriest text message he would ever receive, I thought to myself. A message that would not only make him realise that he was selfish, inconsiderate and horrible but would also make him atone for sins and acknowledge the fact that I was letting him stay in my house and rent free at that (because in my head at this moment, I owned the house) and he was repaying my magnanimity by ruining my life. Yes, ruining my life! There was no exaggeration here. Bit by bit, he was ruining my life. The absolute audacity of him! So sure I was in my convictions, so indignant, so righteous, and therefore, - and if I'm honest, feeling a little bit like a vigilante - I sent the text.

"You suck and I hate you. End of."

Boy, I sure showed him.